


Possessed

by Bookkbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusion to Past Rape/Non-Con, Alternate Season/Series 09, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Demonic Possession, M/M, Sexual Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel should have expected it. At the very least, he should have been prepared for the possibility, but the truth is this; it hadn’t even occurred to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessed

Castiel should have expected it. At the very least, he should have been prepared for the possibility, but the truth is this; it hadn’t even occurred to him.

Of all the dangers of being newly human and Fallen from Heaven, with the miles upon miles to journey to the bunker, no money, no food, dealing with new weaknesses… being possessed had not occurred to Castiel. For all the centuries he had existed, it had never been a possibility, and the threat of  _demons_  had paled in comparison to the threat of his brothers and sisters finding him and exacting their revenge for his hand in the Great Fall.

It’s no consolation that the idea of Cas becoming possessed hadn’t occurred to Dean, either, else surely the elder Winchester would have warned Castiel when they spoke on the phone earlier.

It’s no consolation, because Cas knows that Dean will not be on the lookout for possession when he picks Cas up from the small-town Laundromat Cas had called him from mere hours ago.

The Laundromat had seemed like the perfect place to wait. It was 24-hours and it was not uncommon to see someone waiting there for long periods of time. It was well-lit, too, and so Castiel had settled himself in one of the cheap plastic chairs, made sure he had a good view of the door, and called Dean. Their conversation had been short and to the point, as Cas’s phone battery was dying and there was no way to recharge it.

Dean had told him to stay put, he’d be there as soon as he could.

Cas had done as he was told, nervous about what would happen when Dean finally arrived. He’d taken some change he found in his pockets and bought himself a bottle of water, then gone to the bathroom to relieve himself.

He hadn’t paid the least amount of attention to the petite blonde woman who had followed him down the hallway. He only noticed her when, instead of stepping into the ladies’ restroom, she’d followed him into the mens’. He’d opened his mouth to alert her to her error, but then her eyes had flashed black and she’d tackled him.

It had been over in seconds. Even though Castiel was a soldier with millennia of experience, there was no way to defend himself from the formless black smoke as it poured out of the woman’s body. There was nothing to stop it from forcing its way down his throat and nose.

The woman, once more in charge of her own faculties, had panicked and run.

The demon chuckles inside Castiel’s head.

 _Don’t worry, angel. I’m not going to kill him._  Cas can feel his own lips stretch into a sadistic grin.  _Not right away, anyway._

 

Cas is simmering with rage and fear, but he can do  _nothing_ , and that rankles more than anything. He can do nothing to protect Dean, because it is he who currently poses the threat. For all the anger thrumming through his being, his  _body_  is relaxed and at ease. For all his struggling, he can’t so much as  _twitch a finger_.

And Dean should be here any moment now.

 _You will regret this_ , Cas promises, though he has no idea how he’s going to carry through with his threat. The demon merely laughs again, louder and more amused.

 _And what, flightless bird, are you going to do about it?_  the demon crows. Cas flinches at the reminder of his lost wings.  _All my life I’ve heard about the Winchesters and their pet angel. Terrifying stories, really. ‘Avoid the Winchesters, they’re more trouble than they’re worth’, ‘never threaten Dean unless you have his pet locked up’… and I get to be the one who takes you all down._

The demon seems almost  _giddy_  with it’s own good fortune.

 _And it’s all thanks to you._  There’s a strange sensation, almost as though someone is patting his head, but the feeling is entirely mental. Cas growls and wrenches himself away from the sensation.

Guilt claws heavily at him. Fear chokes his throat. Cas wraps himself in his fury, hoping the demon can’t see beyond his rage.

Cas is terrified. Of all the times he’d lost autonomy, this is the first he’s ever lost his body while his mind was still awake and aware.

 _What are you going to do?_  he asks. The demon considers for a moment. His desire to gloat wins out.

 _I suppose I owe you, since it’s because of you I’ll be the one to take the Winchesters down._  The demon’s voice is taunting, mocking, and Cas feels a sense of foreboding.  _And you’ve got all this **desire** , angel. Gotta say, I was surprised at you, but it all makes sense, doesn’t it? Why you’d rebel? Why you  **Fell**?_

Cas goes cold. His heart seizes in his chest; metaphorically speaking, the damnable muscle isn’t under his control either.

 _No,_  he says, disbelieving. His mind is spinning, a pit opening up in the bottom of his figurative stomach. Of all the things the demon could have chosen to mock him with, to taint, to  _threaten Dean_  with-

 _See, I’m fairly generous,_ the demon says gleefully. _I’ll give you what you always wanted, little bird. Would you prefer him on his back or on his knees?_

In that moment, Castiel would have traded his newly-formed soul for the ability to smite.

 _You will not touch him,_ Cas seethes. _You will not harm-_

 _I will_ , the demon says.  _Oh, yes. I am going to fuck him and I am going to make you watch._

There’s a low, familiar rumble outside the Laundromat. An engine, one Cas knows well.

The demon stands up and stretches, rolling his neck before letting his borrowed body -  _Castiel’s_  body, as it had been his and his alone for years - settle into its natural stance.

_Showtime._

The bell over the door of the Laundromat chimes. The demon looks over and Cas has no choice but to follow his gaze. Dean stands there, looking both relieved and faintly breathless, as though he can’t believe his good fortune at having found Cas once more.

Cas is strongly reminded of Purgatory and he  _aches_.

"Cas," Dean says.

The demon adopts a weak smile as he turns to fully face Dean. Cas is screaming, shouting warnings at Dean, but not so much as a hint of sound escapes his lips.

"Dean," the demon says, sounding relieved. "I’m sorry. Metatron, he-"

Dean shakes his head as he closes the distance between them. He stops shy of hugging Cas, but he’s close, unaware of the danger lurking beneath Castiel’s skin.

"Don’t," Dean says. "We’ll worry about all that shit later." There’s an undercurrent of hurt in his voice, along with some still-lingering anger at how it was they parted, but when Dean looks at him again and smiles, it’s genuine. "It’s just… damn, it’s good to see you."

The demon smiles.

"It’s good to see you too, Dean."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean, exhausted from the stress of the day and the long drive, had suggested they crash at a motel for a few hours. The demon, of course, had agreed sweetly, gloating quietly to Castiel how  _easy_  Dean was making this.

It would be just the two of them in the motel room, and Dean’s guard was still down, at least where Castiel was concerned. No one was expecting them until the next day. There was plenty of time for the demon to do whatever it wanted with no one any the wiser.

The door clicks shut behind them, sealing them in. Castiel is struggling against the demon’s hold, has been since the Laundromat, but no matter what force of will he brings to bear, it does no good. He redoubles his efforts now, knowing his time is running out.

All he needs is a split second, just enough to warn Dean about the monster wearing Castiel’s skin.

Dean, however, isn’t paying attention. He’s looking around the room, taking in the two double beds, the small bathroom, the tiny table with two chairs crammed around it.

"Well, it’ll do," Dean says, dropping his duffle bag onto one of the beds, claiming it for the night. He takes another look at the bathroom, then glances at Castiel. "You want the first shower?"

The demon pretends to consider for a moment, then shakes his head and steps towards Dean.

"I don’t want to shower right now," the demon says. Castiel’s voice sounds odd to his own ears, and he realizes it’s because his voice is heavy with the promise of  _something_. It’s a tone he himself has never used.

It’s one Dean seems to recognize.

Dean seems taken aback, then he shakes himself.

"So I’ll take mine, then," Dean says, turning to unzip his duffle and presumably pull out his pajamas. The demon stalks closer and grabs Dean’s wrist, firm but gentle. Dean stills, hardly even seems to breathe.

_Stop it, stop it **now** , or I swear you will regret it._

The demon doesn’t even bother to respond.

"I’m feeling things now, Dean, so many  _human_  things…” the demon says softly, tugging at Dean’s wrist and shoulder to turn him. Dean turns, green eyes still wide with surprise and…  _hope_?

The demon presses his mouth to Dean’s palm, never breaking eye contact with the hunter. Dean’s pupils dilate and his lips part, tongue coming out to lick at them. Dean doesn’t pull his hand away, not even when the demon trails his mouth down to Dean’s wrist.

"Cas," Dean says breathlessly. Cas feels the sound like a blow to his chest. Does Dean want him too?

Is it possible that the feelings Cas has harbored and hidden for so long are matched in Dean?

The demon gives a mental laugh at that.

_You really didn’t know, little bird?_

Dean’s staring at him, open and naked and warm. Almost innocent.

All Cas can think is  _not like this_.

Whatever there is between them will be for  _them_  to explore, later. When the demon had first made its threats against Dean, Castiel had expected violence. He’d expected force, something he could fight against and something that Dean would know to resist. Something that would let Dean know he was the enemy.

He hadn’t expected this slow seduction. He hadn’t expected Dean to want him, and now Dean’s danger is tenfold because he  _doesn’t know_  what wears Castiel’s face. It’s trickery of the worst sort, the demon preying on a bond and trust that does not belong to it, stealing permission Dean would never knowingly give it.

Dean’s defenses are down entirely and though Castiel had never really thought the demon’s threats could possibly bear fruit, now it seems all too likely that they will. And that  _can not happen_.

"I want you, Dean," the demon says, as though confessing some terrible secret. Dean swallows thickly, his eyes dropping to Cas’s mouth.

"Cas," he says again. He sways forward, a flicker of doubt crossing his expression. Uncertainty. Cas feels a flare of hope. Dean clears his throat. "Maybe we should-"

"I want you  _now_ ,” the demon says forcefully and Dean leans back, surprised. The demon’s expression softens and he reaches up to cup Dean’s face. “I’ve waited so long for you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

The uncertainty doesn’t leave Dean’s expression, though it does melt somewhat. He covers the demon’s hand with his own, but doesn’t pull it from his face.

"Me too, buddy, me too," Dean says. His eyes drop to Cas’s mouth again. He clears his throat. "Just… fuck, this is new for me too, ok? If we could…" His voice trails off.

The demon actually lets out an audible laugh at that, surprised.

"You want to take it  _slow_?” the demon asks disbelievingly. Cas finds himself echoing the sentiment, though where the demon is angry, Cas is pleased. Hopeful. Intimacy with Dean would be wonderful, of that he has no doubt, but the implication of ‘slow’, of being allowed to build something lasting and go at their own pace-

Dean’s frowning, confused and a little hurt by the demon’s tone. His uncertainty has doubled and he pulls away from the demon’s touch, uncomfortable. Cas feels vindictively pleased with the demon’s irritation.

"Is that a problem?" Dean asks carefully. The demon sighs and the uncertainty in Dean’s expression sharpens into suspicion. Dean casually pulls away, hand drifting deliberately towards the small of his back.

"Fine," the demon says. He blinks, and Cas doesn’t need to see Dean’s eyes go wide to know that his own have gone black. "We do this the hard way."

"Shit-!" Dean curses, knife already in hand, but even so he’s not quick enough. The demon backhands Dean viciously across the face. In seconds, the demon has seized Dean’s shirt and shoved him down onto the bed. Dean lets out a pained, gasping sound as the air is forced from his lungs.

The demon climbs on top of him, straddling Dean’s hips and pinning down both of Dean’s arms. Dean struggles, glaring furiously up at the demon on top of him.

"You  _sonofabitch_ ,” Dean growls. The demon laughs.

"Aw, you’re going to hurt my feelings," the demon says mockingly, running his eyes over Dean’s body. Dean gives a visible shudder at that, still trying to yank his wrists free of the monster’s grip.

Cas searches desperately for an opening. He needs just a heartbeat of inattention, something he can use to break free. The demon’s presence is thick and choking and his anger for the creature is matched only by his fear for Dean.

All he needs is a second.

He just prays that second doesn’t come too late. It feels like that window has already closed, and he shudders to think what may happen if he doesn’t manage to buck the demon’s control soon.

“ _Get out of him_.” Dean’s voice is so low, so utterly enraged, that for a moment Castiel almost doesn’t recognize it.

The demon smirks.

"Or you’ll… what?" the demon purrs, squeezing Dean’s trapped wrists to emphasize his point. "Besides, I rather happen to like this meatsuit. You do too, don’t you,  _Dean_?”

The demon’s voice drops low, seductive, and the rage in Dean’s eyes spikes. He twists his left wrist free; the demon’s attention was focused on his right hand, too busy keeping the knife pinned to worry too much about the unarmed left hand.

The flat of Dean’s hand scythes out, striking the inside of each of the demon’s elbows. The demon lets out a low, surprised sound, and is already falling forward by the time Dean grabs his shirt. Dean yanks him the rest of the way in, headbutting the bridge of his nose, bloodying it.

The demon snarls in pain and rage. He draws his fist back to punch, but Dean is quicker. Dean’s strike hits across Cas’s jaw and then Dean is surging up, taking advantage of the demon’s loss of balance to shove him backwards.

The demon tumbles off of Dean. Castiel sees his chance and he takes it.  
Dean shoves himself to his feet, knife coming up as his other hand seizes the front of Castiel’s shirt. Cas is struck by another bout of deja vu, though this time it is him on his knees with a bloody face and Dean the one above him holding a knife.

"Dean," Cas breathes. Dean must sense that something’s changed, because he falters, knife lowering as his eyes widen. Cas knows his time is short, the demon already rallying to take control again. Cas grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt and pulls. "Do it."

"Cas-"

The demon is  _furious_ , thick and choking, and Cas can already feel himself losing the battle.

"Just do it!"

He barely gets the words out before he is unceremoniously shoved to the back of his mind and locked into place. He rages against it, but he can do nothing as the demon uses his grip to drag Dean the two steps forward and bring their bodies flush. Dean’s knees press against Cas’s chest, his groin level with Castiel’s chin.

"Like something out of of dream, isn’t it?" the demon sneers. Dean steps back, shoving at the demon’s shoulders with one hand while holding the knife up in threat. "Him on his knees for you?"

The demon abruptly releases his hold and Dean goes stumbling back, the backs of his knees hitting the bed behind him. Dean curses, but doesn’t lose his balance and manages to rally before the demon gets to his feet. Dean brings the knife up, breathing heavily, and both of them go still. It’s a stalemate, each searching the other for a weakness to exploit. In such cramped quarters, a wrong move could mean a loss.

It’s only quiet for a moment.

"Let Cas go," Dean demands, voice even and deadly. The demon huffs out a laugh.

"You tried that tactic already," the demon says. He lifts his chin and smirks. "You should really hear him in here. Never thought I’d hear an angel beg, but ever since we got here, it’s been all ‘please, don’t! Stop! I don’t want this!’"

The demon pitches his voice high and desperate, pleading. Dean wavers, just for a moment, but the demon notices.

"Remind you of Hell, Dean?"

Cas could have smote the demon a thousand times over for the stricken look on Dean’s face. It passes quickly, but one heartbeat of  _that_ expression on Dean’s face was one heartbeat far too long.

The demon tries to take advantage of Dean being shaken, rushing forward, but Dean is on his guard and for all the demon’s posturing, it relies more on surprise than skill. Dean ducks the creature’s wild strike and punches him hard in the stomach. The demon doubles over and then Dean has a firm grip on the front of Cas’s shirt, turning and walking him backwards until he’s pressed against the wall. The demon blade comes to rest at Castiel’s neck, pressing in just hard enough to be a threat.

"Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way, you sonofabitch?" Dean asks, voice flat and cold. The demon grins.

"Same thing I asked him about you, if I should do you  _easy_  or  _hard_ -“  
Dean’s eyes flash and his lips thin.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-"

The reaction is immediate and intense. The demon snarls, clawing at Dean’s wrist and struggling to break free.

It  _burns_.

"-omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii-"

The demon reaches for Dean’s neck. Its fingers barely brush the skin before Dean releases Cas’s shirt to grab the demon’s hand. He pins the creature’s wrist down against the wall and presses the knife more harshly against its neck.

Cas can feel the skin split.

"-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte-"

The demon surges bodily forward, ignoring the threat of the knife at its neck. The blade cuts deeper into skin. Dean’s expression flashes, fear and worry, and he drops the knife.

The demon grins and punches Dean hard across the face. Dean stumbles back.

"-ut e-ecclesiam-"

The demon grabs Dean’s neck and swings him around, throwing him harshly up against the same wall the demon had just been pinned to.

Dean’s winded, gasping for air, and then the demon’s hands begin to close around his throat.

Dean grits his teeth and gets his hands up just in time to hook his fingers inside the monster’s grip, preventing the hold from closing completely.

"-tuam secura, tibi facias-"

The demon pulls Dean forward, then slams him back against the wall.

Dean’s head strikes the cheap drywall, leaving a dent. Dean grunts in pain, but doesn’t stop speaking.

"-libertate servire-"

"I’m taking him with me, Dean Winchester," the demon snarls, pressing itself up against Dean’s body to spit in his face. "Your precious angel, I’m taking him with me to Hell and I  _swear_  I will do to him  _every single thing_ -“

Dean’s expression is furious, fiercely protective.

"-te rogamus-"

It  _burns_.

"-audi nos!"

The demon screams and Cas screams with it. His flesh is boiling, his very being is bubbling and hissing and boiling over. He can feel the demon latch onto him, viciously barbed hooks sinking into Cas as the demon tries to make good on its threat.

Cas is only vaguely aware of collapsing to his knees, Dean following him down and frantically saying his name over and over again. Cas clings desperately to his body, to the hands touching him and the voice calling our for him.

After what feels like seconds (and an eternity), the choking, burning presence is gone. Cas inhales, and it’s  _his_  inhale, him drawing air into his lungs, and he holds his breath as if just to prove he can.

"Cas?"

Cas lets the air out slowly, opening his eyes wearily. Dean’s face is inches from his own, green eyes wide and worried. Dean’s arms are still locked almost painfully tight around him.

Cas breathes easy.

"Dean," he says, voice hoarse. Dean’s whole body releases tension, like a puppet whose strings were suddenly severed. Almost before Cas knows what’s happening, Dean is pulling him into a proper hug, arms locking behind Cas’s back and Cas’s face pressed into Dean’s neck.

Cas inhales again. The scent of cheap soap and oil and old leather soaks into his lungs. Without conscious thought, his own arms come up behind Dean’s back and wrap around him. Cas closes his eyes and lets himself have this moment on the dirty floor of a cheap motel, a moment he’d denied himself in Purgatory.

Dean’s body is wonderfully warm and soft in his arms.

"You stupid sonofabitch," Dean says, but there’s no real heat in his voice. " _Fuck_. I thought-” He cuts himself off.

"I know," Cas says.

Dean pulls back slowly. Cas reluctantly lets him go. Dean smiles thinly and shakes his head.

"First thing tomorrow, we’re getting you inked."

Cas nods. He feels strangely cold all of a sudden, though the temperature in the room hasn’t dropped. He licks his lips absently, breath catching when he notices Dean’s eyes following the movement with interest.

Then Dean’s expression abruptly clouds over, pain and sorrow and regret, and he looks away.

"I should have a spare set of PJ’s," Dean says, backing away from Cas and making to stand. Cas follows him up and gently grabs his wrist.

"Dean, what is it?" he asks, though he has an idea. Dean doesn’t tug his wrist away, but he tenses as though he’d dearly like to.

"Nothing," Dean says. He lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "It’s not you, it’s me, all right?"

"I sincerely doubt that," Cas says evenly, tugging Dean closer. Dean still doesn’t look at him. "Dean?"

Dean’s expression twists, the heavy, uncomfortable emotions flaring hot and light and familiar, easier. Dean turns back to Cas and yanks his wrist free.

"How the fuck can you stand being near me right now?" he demands, almost furious. "I almost-  _shit_ , Cas.” Dean puts a hand over his eyes and draws in a shuddering breath.

Cas doesn’t need to ask what he means. The night could have gone very differently had the demon been a little better at playing Castiel, or if Dean had given in to ‘Castiel’s’ advances. Cas gives a brief shudder at the idea of the revelation the morning after, too late to save either of them.

"You didn’t know," Cas says. Dean lets out a sharp bark of a laugh and shakes his head.

"I should have," he says. "Fuck, you’re terrified of  _hookers_  and suddenly you’re coming onto me like we’re at the beginning of a bad porno? If I hadn’t wanted it so badly, I would’ve seen right through it.” He swallows. “I should’ve anyway.”

Cas takes a deep breath.

"I wanted it, too," he says. Dean looks at him sharply. Cas meets his stare with a calm he doesn’t really feel. Inside, his heart is beating rapidly, nervous and anticipatory.

"You-" Dean says. He turns to face Cas, but doesn’t close the distance between them. He swallows again. "But-"

Cas can see the conflicting emotions in Dean’s eyes. He can almost read the thoughts behind them.

“‘Please don’t do this to Dean’,” he says softly. Dean flinches briefly, then draws in another slow breath. “‘I don’t want it to happen like this.’”

"I am so fucking glad it didn’t," Dean says immediately. His eyes drop down to Castiel’s mouth again. "But you… you want this?"

The air between them is charged. It practically crackles with energy, untapped potential and the promise of  _something_.

"I do," Castiel affirms. The space between them seems smaller somehow, shrinking as the seconds tick by, though Cas could not honestly say which of them was moving.

"Me, too," Dean says. He licks his lips, his gaze locked on Castiel’s mouth. "Cas, can I-"

“ _Yes_.”

What little space there is between them vanishes. Dean’s mouth is warm and chaste against his own. Cas’s heart feels fit to burst, overflowing with emotion: relief, joy, bliss, love.

The kiss breaks for Dean to let out a quiet, choked ‘haa’ and then they’re kissing again, Dean’s arms wrapping around Cas and cradling him. Cas finds his own arms around Dean’s neck. The sensory overload is overwhelming and Cas doesn’t notice the kiss turn heated, too wrapped up in the sensation of DeanDean _Dean_ -

Dean pulls back, lips wet and eyes bright. Cas feels a flare of pride, of relief and happiness: he made Dean look like that.

"We should probably cool it," Dean says, cheeks flushed lightly pink. Only then does Cas notice the heat coiling low in his belly. He nods, taking half a step backwards from Dean.

“‘Taking it slow’, right?” he asks, testing out the idiom on his tongue.

Dean looks away, tensing a little.

"If that’s-"

Cas presses a soft kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth.

"It’s perfect."

Dean smiles at him and kisses him chastely once more, like he simply can’t help himself.


End file.
